Beginnings
by Darketry
Summary: A new entity appears and things begin to change. Rated M for violence, and possibly sexual content in later chapters. I do not own any of the Pastas used in this story, only my OC. Main ship: Ben Drowned/OC. Don't like don't read. I suck at summaries just bare with me.


_September 1_ _st_ _, 2009_

Autumn, the time of the year when nature kills everything, the time when everything withers away into almost nothingness in order to withstand the harsh cold of winter. The temperature begins to drop, and the harsh light brought by the sun becomes slightly more bearable. Nights last longer, days get shorter, with less bright and cheerful colors to look at. Everyone is quiet and indoors, or inside the warm comfort of their home. It is peaceful, silent and calm.

Calm, empty grey eyes stared up at the blanket of clouds covering the sky. The ominous clouds gave the sense of dread, and the owner of the empty eyes thought that perhaps it would be the perfect time to find a victim. Grey eyes turned downwards towards the empty forest floor. A soft sigh escaped black tinted lips, and pearly white double-fangs. A crimson tongue slithered passed the lethal maulers to moisten the lips, which then quirked up into the faintest of smirks. An icy breeze danced across pale skin, carrying long black strands of hair with it.

She sat on the branch of one of the many dead trees, one which was large enough to support her weight, about 15 yards up. A physical, thick black fleece cloak hung to her shoulders, the hood pulled up, level with her eyebrows to cast a shadow over her eyes. It was fastened together by a red gemstone which sat in her suprasternal notch. The cape of her cloak hung behind her, which would normally reach her lower ankles had she been standing. With her cloak behind her, it revealed the unusual white straight jacket she was trapped in. Her arms held together behind her back by a strange high-tech device, acting similarly like handcuffs, over the sleeves of the white jacket. Besides the jacket, she wore normal black leather shorts. The rest of her was bare and exposed to the cold elements.

Placing her heel on the trunk of the tree, she was able to easily push herself off the branch and falling to the ground with her cape flowing behind her. She landed seconds later on the balls of her feet, bending her knees upon impact just slightly to accommodate for the impact force. Glancing one last time at the cloudy sky, she turned northward and began the long walk to the city.

 _September 2_ _nd_ _, 2: 37 am_

A male, large and brusque, silently walked through the empty halls of the local hospital. A fancy suit, he wore, and walked with the help of a fancy golden cane. A cigar hung from his mouth, emitting a steady stream of smoke into the air. The building was unusually silent. The man stopped in front of one of the many rooms, and entered the darkened room. Upon entry, his cold brown eyes laid upon the woman lying on the bed. She had long, wavy brown locks which complimented her pale complexion. Her eyes were closed, and her rosy lips slightly parted. An endotracheal tube running through her nose provided her the oxygen which her body struggled to gather on its own. The only indication that the woman was still alive came from the steady beeps of the heart monitor, which sat beside her bed among the various other machines she required.

He noticed how the pale moonlight shone upon her, and gave her an almost surreal appearance. One might even describe her as angelic, lying on deaths doorstep as she was. The man carefully sat down in the chair beside his beloved, taking her fragile hand within his larger ones. He grimaced, bowing his head as sorrow filled his eyes.

"Julie…" He murmured, his voice gruff. His eyes watered, but he refused to let any tears fall. He was too strong to show weakness. What little light had been in the room, was soon gone as the clouds once again blanketed the sky. This left the lonesome man and his dying wife in utter darkness., the only light coming from the red line of the heart monitor.

 _"It is quite a shame, the fate that has befallen your beloved."_ A strange voice spoke in his head. The man froze, shocked by the voice. He couldn't tell if he imagined it or not. He looked around the room, only to find it empty. He turned back towards the female, not noticing that the heart monitor had froze, and was no longer beeping. _"You know as well as I do, the importance Death holds on this world."_ The voice continued. He definitely didn't imagine that. Skeptical, the man cautiously laid his hand on the handle of the pistol hidden in the belt of his pants.

"Show yourself." He ordered, his voice carrying a dangerous tone.

 _"Now now, Joseph, you really mustn't jump to such foolish conclusions. As a mob boss, you know that such an act is sure to get you killed, if done in front of the wrong person."_ The voice stated with a hint of smugness. The male- Joseph- frowned deeper, turning so that his back was facing his wife.

"Clearly, you don't know the power I have." He spat, lifting his cane and tapping it against the tiled floor. His skilled eyes glanced around the room, searching. But there was nothing to be found.

 _"It is_ _ **you**_ _, Joseph, who does not understand the power_ _ **I**_ _have."_ Said the voice, now distinctively feminine and carrying a dark undertone. As if to prove a point, he suddenly found himself unable to bring air to his lungs. He gasped again and again, bringing his hands up to claw at his throat, like something was choking him. But he only scratched his own skin. Fear gripped his heart, tears stung his eyes. He attempted to stand- to escape, thinking that if he left maybe he could get the oxygen his burning lungs so desperately required. Having dropped his cane to claw at his throat, he was unable to support his own weight and fell to the ground. He tried to call out, but it was useless.

Without thinking, the mob boss grabbed the endotracheal tube and quickly shoved it up his nose. He chocked and coughed as the oxygen was forced into his lungs. The burning was still there, but the pain was dulled. He took many deep breaths of it, his salvation. He lied there, resting, and allowing his racing heart to calm as he stared up at the darkened ceiling. The situation he was in long forgotten to the older man for the moment.

 _"Just as I thought…"_ The voice spoke again, sounding almost disappointed. _"Greedy to a fault."_ Joseph shut his eyes, fighting against the growing headache he was now being plagued with. If only he could get that bothersome ringing to stop, then maybe his head would stop hurting.

Except it wasn't ringing, it was a long, continuous beep.

Frantic, he struggled to his feet and back onto the chair. Looking at the long flat line of the heart monitor, his worst fears were confirmed. He choked out a sob, struggling to keep his emotions in check as he gripped his wife's hand.

"Julie, no… please don't leave, you can't. Julie. Julie!" His please started as a whisper, and grew louder with each passing second. He clenched his eyes shut, unable to stop the tears that ran down his wrinkled cheeks.

"Poor Joseph." The voice spoke again, except this time he was sure that it wasn't in his head. The man turned around, anger filling his heart when his eyes landed upon the cloaked figure. This time, her cloak was fastened securely around her to hide her form from his view.

"I'll kill you for what you did to my wife!" He shouted, spit flying from his mouth. He grabbed the gun from his pants and aimed it at the persons head. Despite having a gun pointed at her, she remained unfazed and unmoving.

"It is rude to blame me when it was you who suffocated your beloved." She calmly spoke, her body frozen like a statue. Her blank grey eyes stared into his, appearing almost lifeless.

"You know damn well what I meant!" He continued, his rage making his hands shake. Joseph grit his teeth, baring them. Hidden eyebrows furrowed, and grey eyes seemed to darken.

"Shoot me." She growled out, taking a step forward. Another step, and another step, and she stood only a couple feet before the man. Her boldness caused him to shake even more, the barrel of his gun inches away from her forehead. "I dare you to shoot me, Joseph." She growled out again, her tinted lips curving into a fanged smirk. Joseph paused, forgetting his anger in his confusion of this odd turn of events. With every person he has held at gun point, they've all cowered in fear and begged for mercy. This one was different, instead of begging for mercy, this one was challenging him. He took a deep breath to steady himself, although it did little to calm his raging nerves.

"Good riddance." He uttered, a dark look entering his still rage filled eyes.

He pulled the trigger, and the loud boom echoed many times throughout the room. The force of the impact sent her backwards, yet strangely she was never knocked off her feet. Anticipation crawled up his spine. 'Fall.' He chanted over and over in his mind.

"Heh. I congratulate you on your courage, no matter how foolish it may be." The female spoke, slowly righting herself. His eyes widened when he saw the bullet buried in her forehead, half of it sticking out. Yet it was like the bullet didn't even pierce her skin. There was no blood. Why wasn't there any blood?

 _Why wasn't there any blood?_

A crimson tongue slipped passed two sets of fangs, the outer set larger than the inner, and moistened black tinted lips.

 _"Foolish." A shrill scream pierced the once calm air. Then the silence settled once again._

A young male, around 17 years old, slowly paced down the empty hallways. Impatient as always, the male glanced at the watch hidden beneath the sleeve of his white hoodie. 3:07am. He pulled his sleeve back down, before yanking his white hood over his head of matted black locks. His pale skin seemed to glow in the light of the hospital hallways. His dark brown eyes staring straight ahead, he turned left around the corner to a new hallway.

His pace slowed considerably when a door opened. On instinct, he shoved both his hands into the single, large pocket of his hoodie and lowered his head to hide his features in the shadow of his hood. He expected a nurse or a doctor to exit the room, since it was well into the early hours of the morning and visiting wasn't allowed past 10pm, but he was shocked to find a cloaked figure exiting the room. As if she sensed his presence, she turned towards him directly after exiting the room. He narrowed his eyes at the strange figure, noticing the crimson liquid dripping down both corners of her unnaturally black lips. _Blood?_

Grey eyes connected with black eyes. The two mysterious beings had a sort of stare-down, as if daring the other to give in. It was the male that moved first, shifting his eyes towards the door she exited from. His eyes furrowed, turning back towards the person.

"You killed him, didn't you? You killed the man that was supposed to be in that room." He questioned, but he already knew the answer. She smirked.

"I hope you don't mind. I was rather bored all by my lonesome." Instantly, the male could sense that she was rather sinister. If her voice and smirk was anything to go by. He grit his teeth together, frowning despite his carved smile.

"Actually, I do mind. I was really looking forward to getting to have my turn with one of the most dangerous criminals in town." He spat, gripping the handle of the large knife hidden in his pocket. Her frown dropped, then she shrugged nonchalantly.

"If it puts your mind at ease, Joseph wasn't much of a challenge." She informed him. She opened her mouth to speak, but apparently the male in front of her had other plans, because he was quickly walking towards her with a drawn knife.

"Who sent you?" Although he asked it, it sounded more like an exclamation than anything. He charged towards her, knife poised beside him, ready to strike. Her grey eyes followed the knife, watching as the silver surface shone and sparkled against the light. It was clean.

"You take care of that knife, don't you?" She calmly questioned, stepping back in time to avoid the swing of his large knife. He answered with another wide swing of his arm, which she nimbly dodged once again.

"Of course I take care of it. If I didn't, the blood of my victims would rust the metal and then I'd have to get a new one. And I don't know about you, but it's kind of hard for a freak-show like me to just walk into Wal-Mart and buy a fucking knife without looking questionable." He spat, pausing in his attacks to catch his breath and stare at his opponent. Somewhere in the back of his head he questioned why she was so casual with the fact that he just tried to stab her. The female hummed in agreement, nodding. When she focused her eyes back on the male, now much closer to her than before, she noticed his face for the first time. His cheeks were cut open, into a smile. And his eyes were oddly wide- as if he lacked eyelids. As she had seen his face, he too had seen hers, and noticed the bullet still lodged in her forehead.

"Heh, nice head ornament you've got there, Red Riding Hood." He taunted, flashing a large toothed smile. She raised an eyebrow at him. He went from cautious, to angry, to aggressive, to passive, to teasing in less than ten minutes.

"Have you been having any weird cravings lately? Or perhaps you've suddenly felt like your appetite has doubled?" She questioned, feigning seriousness. He paused, taken off guard by the question. A look of deep thought crossed his face.

"Now that you mention it, yeah." He replied, his voice reflective. She chuckled internally. Had she been able to move her arms, she would've lightly ran the tip of her claw from the base of his throat to his chin.

"I think you might be pregnant. It's a good thing we are in a hospital, would you like me to get you a room?" She shot back at him, her voice sly. A part of her was both pleased, yet disappointed when the male swung at her. Caught off guard, the female barely had time to avoid the attack, and as a result his blade made contact with her cheek. She held silent, taking a few quick steps back. A rich, black liquid slowly began to roll down her cheek from the small cut. Silent, cold grey eyes met his burning black ones.

"You never answered my question. And stop trying to distract me." He ordered, pointing his blade at her. She hesitated, considering her opponent for a moment to decide the course of action she should take.

"Perhaps," She spoke slowly, straightening her back to appear taller. Height-wise he was a head taller than her, when she wasn't on her toes. "It is you, who should learn how to control your emotions. After all, one's emotions are a great weakness which the enemy can use against you." Her tone held a sort of formality to it. The male groaned, running a hand through his bangs.

"Who sent you?" He repeated.

"I sent myself."

"Bullshit. Who are you working for?" He tried, taking a slow step forward. Four feet lay between them. The air seemed to thicken with tension.

"I work for no one." The shadowed figure spoke slowly again. She tilted her head forward slightly and glared pointedly at him with narrowed grey eyes. He growled, another step forward- three feet between them.

" _Fine!_ Then tell me your name!" He ordered through grit teeth.

"Only if you tell me yours, Mr. Smiley." She taunted, her sinister smirk once again crossing her face. He scrunched up his nose, visibly displeased with the situation.

"Jeff the Killer."

"Shadow Haunts. A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Killer."


End file.
